


February Comes Like A Lion

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst and Feels, Child Death, Child Loss, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hearing Voices, Hurt No Comfort, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24263998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: February 22, 1511The day Henry, Duke of Cornwall, Aragon’s precious baby boy, died after just fifty-two days of life.
Kudos: 23





	February Comes Like A Lion

February 22, 1511

The day Henry, Duke of Cornwall, Aragon’s precious baby boy, died after just fifty-two days of life.

When the anniversary of the infant’s death came about, Aragon was, naturally, very upset. She had walked out of her bedroom with swollen red eyes and tears glistening on her cheeks. Seeing her look so broken was shocking- Aragon of all people was big on not letting others see her when she was weak. But here she was, walking around like the undead, openly crying.

Jane was the one who gently took the woman by the hand and got her to sit down on the couch. That’s all it took for Aragon to crumble again. Jane held her as she sobbed, rubbing her back and murmuring sweet things in her ear.

She stopped crying, eventually, but didn’t look any better. Her eyes remained hollow and glassy throughout the day and when she spoke, her voice was distant and dry.

It had been Kitty’s idea to bake a “get better soon” cake. She didn’t really know about the grief of motherhood and losing a child, but everyone liked cake! Surely it could make Aragon feel a little better.

Maria and Bessie came over a few minutes after they started, since they probably knew about this day better than anyone else. Maria made an immediate beeline for Aragon, wrapping her up tightly in her arms. Bessie, on the other hand, lingered a few feet away, looking rather uncomfortable. She was shuffling her feet and crossing and uncrossing her arms several times. When she eventually did go over to Aragon, she just set a slightly awkward hand on her shoulder and gave her a sympathetic look.

“How are you?” Maria asked after she parted from the embrace. She sat down next to her dear friend, gently taking one of her hands in her own and using the other to stroke unruly strands of hair out from the queen’s face.

Aragon wrinkled her nose slightly. She kept her head hung in silence for a moment before finally taking in a deep breath.

“I’ve been better.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Another beat of silence. Aragon has to gather up the words.

“Everyone-” Maria tips her head to let the queen know she’s listening, “Everyone says I need to stop blaming myself. It wasn’t my fault- I know it wasn’t my fault, but-” Aragon grits her teeth so tightly she’s surprised they don’t shatter from the pressure, “-he was _my son_. And I couldn’t save him. I-I couldn’t be there when he needed his mother the most and-”

She inhaled sharply and curled her fingernails on her free hand into her flesh. She hates how vulnerable she must have looked in that moment.

“Well, they’re right. You didn’t cause the illness.” Maria said, gently prying the queen’s nails from her palms before she hurt herself.

“I know!” Aragon snapped, jerking back. Maria draws her hands away fast, like she had been burned. “I know I didn’t cause it, of course I didn’t, but I let everyone down! The city, the court, Henry-” Veins are popping out along her neck as she clenches her jaw. Tears tremble in her lower lids. “They lost their prince. And I lost my baby… My precious little Henry…”

The tears spill free and stream down her cheeks for the third time that day. Maria reaches out and gently wipes them away.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“Don’t be sorry.” Maria said, “There’s no reason to be sorry.”

Aragon nodded slowly, not really believing her friend, and looked down to the ground dejectedly.

“Do you think I’ll ever get over this?”

“Of course. Probably not for awhile, but it’ll get better. The wounds will heal.” Maria assured her, pulling her into a hug. “It’ll all be okay. I promise.”

“Lord, what did I do to deserve you?”

“Shut up and hug me.”

They both needed it. Maria felt Aragon bury her face against her shoulder, taking deep breaths. Maria only wished she could do more, but she settled for holding her tight.

A few minutes later, Aragon took a deep breath and raised her head. Her eyes are still very sad, but a new light has sparked in them slightly.

“I’m glad I have you,” She said, smiling weakly. “You too, Elizabeth.” Her small grin quickly disappears when she notices how pale Bessie was. “Elizabeth? What’s wrong, dear?”

“I—” Bessie seems to be struggling with the words. She swallowed thickly and rubbed her palms against her thighs anxiously. “I have to use the bathroom.”

Then she walked out the back door and disappeared outside.

Silence.

“She isn’t going to pee in our yard, right?” Anne said.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Maria got up. She squeezed Aragon’s hand. “I’ll be right back.”

She walked out to the backyard where Bessie was pacing anxiously with her hands tangled in her hair. Her eyes looked haunted as she muttered something to herself, shaking her head a few times as if denying what she was saying.

“Bessie?” Maria gently touched Bessie’s shoulder, but even that simple was enough to make the frazzled woman jump backwards in fright.

“WHAT?! What?!” Bessie cried.

Maria held her hands up. “Woah, woah! Calm down!”

Bessie looked Maria up and down, then swallowed thickly. She dropped her arms limply to her side and her shoulders drooped. She looked absolutely distraught over something.

“Hey,” Maria softened her tone. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Bessie said, but her voice is thick with unshed tears.

“Bee…” Maria tilted her head in an affectionate way as if she were gazing at Bessie from a different angle, and gently cupped her cheeks. “You know I don’t believe that. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Bessie said again, this time much softer. “I-I just—” She pulled away from Maria and resumed her pacing, now hugging herself tightly. “Something is— I—”

“Bessie, hey. Take a breath. You’re freaking yourself out.” Maria told her.

“I did something bad.” Bessie blurted out. Her hands are splayed in front of her, now, visibly shaking. Her eyes dart all over, like she’s afraid someone might overhear her.

Maria stared at her for a moment, eyebrows furrowed tightly in confusion.

“What did you do?” She asked.

“I—” Bessie shut her mouth and looked down at the grass. Her foot uproots a patch of dirt, then pats it back into place. When she’s finished, she finally looked up again. “Something…that has to do with Henry. The baby. Aragon’s. Not mine.”

“What is it?” Maria pressed.

“I-I don’t…want to say. But I know I have to. It’s killing me.” Bessie set a hand on her chest and clenched the fabric of her shirt tightly between her fingers. “I feel so guilty, Maria… I-I don’t— I don’t even know why I’m here. Reincarnated, I mean. After what I did.”

Abruptly, she kneels on the wet grass, the heels of her palms pressed tightly against her eyes. She’s shaking her head again like she was trying to ward off offending spirits or bad memories. Maria crouched down next to her and set a comforting hand on her back. Bessie trembles under her palm.

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re referring to,” Maria began. “But if what you say is true, it seems like you’ve been letting this eat away at you for a long time.”

Bessie nodded grimly. She leaned over slightly to bury her face in Maria’s neck. Maria wrapped an arm around her and held her close.

“You need to break free of that guilt, Bessie.” Maria went on. “Trust in those who love you.”

“You think I should tell Catalina?” Bessie whispered.

Maria nodded, smoothing out the bassist’s thick, black hair.

“If it’s about her son, then she deserves to know.” She said. “And I know it may be difficult with today being his death date, but I’m afraid there’s no better time than now. If it’s getting you this worked up, then bringing it up randomly at some other time may be more disastrous. And keeping it bottled up for any longer won’t be good for you, either.”

“B-but what if you hate me?”

“I could never hate you, Bessie. You know that.” Maria said. “And if you’re worried about the same thing with Aragon, then, well…let her be mad. She’ll recover. And so will you.”

Bessie looked up at Maria, who smiled warmly at her.

“You got this, Bee.”

Bessie took a deep breath and nodded. She stood up slowly, Maria helping her as she rose to her feet. She’s clearly still nervous and frazzled, but not completely freaking out anymore.

“Thank you.” She said.

“No problem.” Maria grinned at her. “Now, lets go get you sorted out.”

They walked back inside, but that distance alone is enough to drain Bessie of all her courage. She wants to run- she TRIES to run, but Maria has a hold on her arm and she can’t escape. She’s forced to face Aragon, who is still hunched on the couch, but at least is humoring a Disney movie Kitty put on to try and cheer her up. When she looks up at the two ladies in waiting, her eyes lighten significantly, and you would think that would make Bessie feel better, but it just jams a spike of black ice deep into her gut.

She doesn’t deserve such a loving gaze.

“Are you both alright?” Aragon asked. Even with her voice so drained and saddened, there’s still worry for others evident in the curls of her British-Spanish accent.

“We’re okay.” Maria answered, although she did cast an unsure glance at Bessie. “Don’t worry about us.”

“I’m always going to worry about you both.” Aragon reprimanded. She noticed Bessie suck in a sharp breath at those words and bite her lip tightly. Her fists were clenched, too, nails driven into her palms. “Elizabeth? Is everything alright?”

Bessie opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. Then, she whipped her head around to Maria and gave her a pleading look. Maria just darted her eyes over to Aragon several times as if indicating her, but Bessie shook her head and hissed soft words of denial.

“Bessie wants to talk to you!” Maria finally said loudly.

“Dude!” Bessie cried.

Aragon stood up immediately, although it was very slow and sluggish- the mourning she felt for her son has sunk into her bones and made them weak with fatigue.

“What about?”

“That’s for you both to discuss.” Maria said, waving them into the kitchen. It probably wasn’t enough privacy, but it would have to do. She worried Bessie might just explode if she didn’t say whatever was bothering her soon.

“What’s wrong, Elizabeth?” Aragon asked once everyone was in the living room. They were supposed to be watching the movie, and although Kitty turned the volume up, she was sure they were all eavesdropping.

“I—” Bessie’s voice died quickly. She shuffled her feet anxiously and looked everywhere but Aragon’s eyes. It was clear something had her very distressed.

“Elizabeth, hey,” Aragon cupped one of Bessie’s cheeks gently, and Bessie grabbed that hand.

 _ **You don’t deserve to hold her hand.**_ A voice in Bessie’s head hissed. _**You ruined her life.**_

She shook her head and managed to stutter out an apology.

“Hey, sweetheart, come here. I think you’re having a panic attack.” Aragon pulled Bessie into an embrace, but Bessie instantly struggled against her. She broke free after a moment and collapsed to her hands and knees. Aragon was immediately down by her side.

“Elizabeth, please look at me.”

_**You did this to her.** _

Bessie squeezed her eyes shut, giving in to the blind panic, and felt her entire body seize up.

_**You ruined her life. Because of your selfishness.** _

“It’s okay,” Aragon’s voice came from in front of her, but Bessie could barely make it out.

She was wheezing out ‘I’m sorry’s in between frantic gasps and her chest was tight so, so tight, and in front of her, Aragon grabbed her arms and was trying to tell her to breathe but in that moment, Bessie needed to apologize more than she needed to breathe, and the apologies were spilling out on top of each other. Her lungs were screaming for air, but she needed to apologize or things would somehow get worse because she knew that was how it always worked.

At this point, she could feel herself shaking like a leaf, and she never felt more pathetic.

_**How can you break down in front of her after what you did?** _

Aragon’s hands are suddenly cupping her cheeks again, wiping away her tears, and Bessie realized she was crying on top of everything.

“Elizabeth, honey, please, focus on me.” Aragon said gently.

“I wasn’t—” Bessie gasped, opening her eyes and staring at the kitchen tile, at Aragon’s knees, because she didn’t deserve to look her in the eyes. “I-“

_**Tell her.** _

“I’m trying.” She gurgled, her chest seizing up.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, but it’s not important,” Aragon said, trying to catch her eyes. “Breathe, Bessie, breathe with me.”

“No, I-” Bessie stuttered, continuing to hyperventilate and feel more pathetic by the moment. She had to say it. “I wasn’t sad—for you.”

Aragon’s hands, wiping away her tears, went still.

“You- what?”

“I wasn’t sad for you.” Bessie said again, this time much softer.

“I don’t understand.” Aragon said. “What are you talking about?”

Bessie could only whimper weakly, face crumpling and fresh tears pouring down her face. Her arms were numb, yet she still felt incredibly hot, and this was how she was going to die, wasn’t it?

_**You deserve it.** _

“Elizabeth.” Aragon said, lifting her chin. Her voice was rough, grinding, laced with worry and dismay. “Elizabeth, please, I need you to breathe. I’m not going to lose another child on this day.”

Something snapped in Bessie’s chest.

 _ **Tell her.**_ The voice in her head urged, sensing this. _**You have your chance. Tell her.**_

“Don’t—” Bessie grit. “Don’t call me that.”

Aragon is taken aback slightly. “Why?”

“Because I don’t—deserve it.” Bessie shoved herself up to her knees and stared into Aragon’s eyes. “I wasn't—upset for you when Henry died. I didn’t feel bad for him, either. I didn’t care about either of you, I never cared about him when he was alive, I just cared about myself.”

Aragon goes very still. The hands that had been reaching out towards Bessie froze and just hovered in the air. She looked…conflicted.

“What?” She whispered. “B-but I thought you…”

Bessie knew what she was thinking about- the first time she held baby Henry when she was thirteen. Cradling him in her arms and proclaiming that she was going to be the best big sister ever. Aragon had smiled lovingly at them both.

“I-I thought…”

“No.” Bessie swallowed thickly. “I never loved him. Or cared about him. He was just—my scapegoat.”

Aragon is silent. Her arms have dropped limply to her side and lie like dead vines on the ground. She’s starting to shake.

“Henry was born during the early stages of the affair.” Bessie began to explain. The words were forcing their way out of her mouth without her consent, tumbling over themselves like a waterfall. “In the beginning, I thought the king with just giving me special treatment, but then he started…having sex with me and I realized it was so much more. And at first I enjoyed it! I thought it felt—” Her body shuddered horribly. She almost looked like she was going to be sick. “—good. But then it started to hurt. Really badly. I was so young; my body couldn’t take all that— _force_.”

Aragon made a squeaking sound and screwed her eyes shut, which surprised Bessie out of her explanation for a moment. She had eject heard such a noise come out of such a regal and noble queen, even when she was upset.

“But then,” Bessie went on, struggling. “When Henry was born…and lived…the king had no more use for me. He threw me aside now that he had a son, a living son, and I didn’t care. Because I was free.” She shook her head, sniffling and trying to fight back fresh tears. “Those were the best fifty-two days of my entire life…”

Aragon whimpered and covered her face with her hands. She rocks herself on her knees for a moment, shaking her head and muttering things to herself. It sounded like she was saying, “God, no. God please, no. Don’t let it be true.”

“I think I loved the boy at one point,” Bessie said softly. “And I might have even seen him as a little brother.” A tear slipped out from one of her haunted blue eyes, and Aragon didn’t dare remove herself from her curled, face-shielded position to wipe it away this time. “But he was never anything more than my way out. And I thanked God that he was alive so I wouldn’t have to be subjected to anymore torment from the king.” She laughed bitterly, weakly. “But it seemed God didn’t appreciate my selfishness. Because Henry…”

“Don’t say it, don’t say it,” Aragon begged.

“Died.”

A strangled cry escaped Aragon’s lips. She pulled roughly at the hair on the crown of her skull, shaking her head more vigorously.

“I didn’t cry that day over him. Or you. Or your loss. I cried because I knew the actual Henry was going to come for me again. He was going to drag me back to his bed and rape me and abuse me all over again.” Bessie stared down at her hands as if they were soaked in Aragon’s baby’s blood. As if she had been the reason he died. That she had killed him. “And he did. That night—the night of your son’s death…it was one of the worst in the entire affair.”

Her voice lowered- she didn’t seem to be talking to Aragon anymore, rather just reminiscing to herself over her traumatic memories.

“All night long… He never stopped. He just kept— _filling me_. Over and over and over again. He said I would get pregnant, that he would make me pregnant whether I liked it or not. I was so full of his—” She bit her tongue, looking very ill again. Aragon even looked up from her hands, thinking the woman before her may actually be sick.

“It was terrible.” Bessie finally just whispered.

“B-but—” Aragon managed to say. “Y-you aren’t— You aren’t like him.” Tears are falling faster down her face. “H-he wasn’t upset about the loss of our baby. He wasn’t even upset at all, he was just angry about losing an heir. He never loved our son. He never loved me, either, but our little boy— He didn’t care about him.” She’s blubbering over herself, far too wrapped up in her anxiety and fear and anguish to form her words right. “You aren’t like that. You aren’t like him! You can’t!”

“BUT I AM, MOTHER!” Bessie suddenly exploded. It shocked her, but Aragon, too, who flinched away from her as if she were expecting a blow from a livid king. She even heard some of the eavesdroppers from the living room gasp as well. “At least Henry had a reason to be upset! He lost an valuable heir! It doesn’t justify him, but he had one. I didn’t! Not a good one. I mourned myself! I didn’t think about you or your baby at all on that day, all I thought about what MYSELF! AND THAT HAUNTS ME!”

Aragon placed her shaking palms flat on the ground and braced herself against her arms. Her breathing is so shallow and harsh, and Bessie can’t remember the last time she saw her cry so hard.

Perhaps when she found her son dead…

“That regret I feel is crushing me! I want to escape it! So that’s why I had to tell you! Because I thought it would help the guilt, but when I hear you still hanging onto how Henry reacted that day and then say that I’m not like him, then how in God’s name can I think I can get over this?!” Bessie cried. “I don’t need to hear that there’s hope for forgiveness! That there’ll be improving! NOT FROM YOU! Because if that’s what you think, THEN YOU BETTER START GIVING ME A WORSE TIME THAN YOU EVER DID HENRY BECAUSE I AM MUCH MORE AWFUL THAN HE EVER WAS!!”

Silence filled the area. Bessie and Aragon both stared at each other, tears streaming down their cheeks. The heads peeking around the corner from the living room just gawked at the two of them in shock.

“I-”

Aragon spoke first. Her voice was so weak and broken.

“I need a moment.”

Bessie nodded softly. She got up, staggering for a moment, and Aragon actually flinched like she wanted to catch her, but was holding herself back from doing so. The bassist regained her balance after careening into the back door. She took one last glance at Aragon before walking out of the house.

Aragon doesn’t move for a long time, then slumped over onto her side, curled into a ball on the floor, and began to wail over the loss of yet another child on that damned day.


End file.
